Bullets and Blades
by SicTruths
Summary: When they found the prison, everything was starting to look up. But Dean knew better. Nothing this good can come without a price and the Governor is the least of their worries. With the Mark slowly changing Dean, Daryl is left to figure out how to help everyone he can. And sometimes that means certain things need to be sacrificed to the good of the others. Sequel to Last of Them.
1. Chapter 1

**The sequel to Last of Them! Finally! I'm pretty excited for this one. I didn't expect to be writing a sequel for any of my stories, but here it is. It takes place during the third season of The Walking Dead and will follow through it. I'm not sure if I'm going to have Destiel in this or not. I do like the pairing, but I don't know. Let me know if any of you are interested it having it in here or not.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or Supernatural.**

Chapter 1

The air was slowly getting cooler and it was pretty obvious. Dean pulled his leather jacket tighter around his body as he stepped over the walker body. Freak crawled behind him, keeping close to his side. Dean stashed the Blade back on his belt and grabbed for metal pipe hanging from his waist when he spotted another walker. It stumbled down the stairs of the house he was planning on raiding. A rush of air escaped Dean's nose as he watched in muted amusement as the walker nearly fell, but somehow caught itself and was now ambling towards him, making the awful noise that they do. Dean felt Freak leave his side, probably to go find some other walkers, and left this one to Dean. Taking a few steps forwards, he swung the wooden gate open and let the walker lurch through.

The first hit of the steel pipe against the walker's neck made a sickening crack and Dean knew he broke something because its head lolled to the side, not that it noticed. The walker's blond hair that Dean could only assume was once beautiful now lay in tangled knots around its head, hiding the missing half of her face, but not well enough. The walker extended one arm out towards Dean, dirt covered fingers reaching for him. Gripping the pipe in one hand, Dean focused all his strength in bringing the pipe down hard on its arm. A bone (or maybe more) crumpled from the blow and the arm fell limply at the walker's side, not that it noticed. A rush of adrenaline surged through Dean and he easily side stepped the walker and brought the pipe hard against the undead's side. More bones cracked and it was like music to his ears. With one swift kick to the legs, the walker fell face first and it gave Dean the perfect opportunity to bring the pipe down on its head. Even though he heard the skull crack on the first blow, Dean ignored it and repeatedly brought the pipe down until the walker's head resembled ground beef. The same high ran through his body when he killed it as all the other times.

Dean looked over his shoulder and saw Cas had exited the house he had been searching through and was now staring at him. Although he was across the stree Dean could still see the worried and slightly disgusted look on Cas's face. He knew what the angel was thinking. Cas had expressed it many times over the last few months. He was worried about Dean. More specifically, the way he was acting. Dean knew he was different. It didn't take a genius to figure that out, but he didn't need anyone telling him. The logical part of his brain told him that it was because of the Mark he was like this, that using the Blade only made it worse. He knew that the last night on the farm broke his last resistance when he used the Blade, but he didn't care anymore. It was more tiring to resist the damned thing that to just accept it. And Dean was just too tired to deal with it anymore. So yeah, hate him for wanting it to be over. He knew Cas wanted to hate him, but couldn't. He also knew that the others from the group were starting to notice the change in him. Most of them had taken to avoiding him for the most part, all except Daryl. His friend had been the first to notice something was wrong and was the only one who didn't try to talk about it with him or avoid him. As much as he wanted to deny it, Dean was happy that one person didn't see him differently or act any differently around him.

Dean knew that he should be doing more to fight off the allure of the Mark, but fuck, it felt so good.

Dean turned away from Cas and headed up the stairs to the house. The door hung wide open from when the walker stumbled through it and Dean had to stop outside to take a quick look inside. There were no walkers in plain sight so he continued into the house. The floorboards squeaked beneath his feet and he crossed the threshold into the kitchen. The place looked surprisingly clean for being abandoned for at least a few months. Whatever family or people who had tried to hold out here were either long gone or dead (probably the latter). Dean shrugged off the backpack he was carrying around, which was already half full, and set it on the kitchen island. After a quick look through the cupboards and fridge, the quest only resulted in a few cans of fruit, baked beans, and a couple of bottles of water. This place looked like it was already picked through and Dean figured he wouldn't find much.

The rest of the house yielded little as well. There were no other walkers in the house, but there were the decayed remains of a few people, all of which were so old that the smell didn't even linger in the air anymore. What the house did fork up were a few changes of clothes, for both male and female, as well as what looked like clothes for a baby. Dean knew that they could all use more clothes seeing as to how they went through them surprisingly fast, and Rick's kid was going to need clothes for when it was born. Dean filled the rest of his backpack with the clothes.

Dean exited the house and found Cas waiting for him down the road, leaning casually against the car. Fixing his bag, Dean descended the creaky steps. He didn't miss the way Cas' eyes went to the bloody Blade at his hip as he walked passed him to get to the driver side of the car. Dean silently slid behind the wheel and Cas took his spot next to him. As soon as he started the car, Dean heard something land on top of the car and saw the clawed hand tap lightly on the windshield. Freak was back with them and ready to go.

"Dean," Cas said finally once they were on the road. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was waiting for the angel to bring this up. "I'm concerned for your well being."

"I know you are. You've told me before. A lot," Dean said, keeping his eyes on the road. "Don't be, okay? I'm fine."

"I can see what the Blade and Mark are doing to you, Dean. Everyone can see the change in you, even if they do not know what it is," Cas said. Dean knew the angel did care for him, the concern in his voice making it painfully obvious, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"And what are you gonna do 'bout it, Cas? You're angel mojo is still shit, the only one who knows what the hell is happening is you, and you don't have any supplies so help. Face it: There's nothing you can do for me," Dean said, his voice clipped in anger. "So just drop it."

Thankfully, Cas did. The angel said no more and took to staring out his window instead of looking at Dean. Dean knew that he was getting frustrated, but Dean couldn't be happier. Maybe if he got Cas a little angrier then he would just leave him the hell alone. Dean contemplated this as he wiped one of his slightly bloody hands on the his pant leg. The back country road was empty, the main reason why Dean had chosen it to follow. The fact that it was paved was just a bonus. A lone walker was tripping across the road in front of them and turned when it heard the Impala. Dean swerved around it simply because he didn't want to deal with cleaning walker off of the car. He had better things to do when they got back to the others.

It was still light out by the time they got back to the house they had decided to hole up in for the night. Dean had helped the others clear it out before he and Cas left for the quick supply run and now it seemed like everyone had gotten inside. Dean parked the car next to the others and was out so fast he barely had time to grab the keys from the ignition. With the backpack over his shoulder and Cas close behind him, Dean climbed the stairs to the front door. The door was looked, Dean knew, so he did the series of knocks that everyone had decided on to let the others know it was them if they were out. It didn't take long for Rick to open the door and let them in.

"Didn't find much. Most of the houses around here had already been picked clean. I did find a few cans of food, some water, and clothes. I can't be the only one noticing the weather getting colder," Dean said as he passed the ex-cop and went to empty the pack on the ground in the living room, where everyone else seemed to have grouped. Lori noticed the baby clothes and sent Dean a thankful smile, but it quickly vanished when she was Freak crawl in behind him. Out of everyone in the group, Lori had taken the knowledge of Freak the worst. She didn't speak to Dean and hardly spoke to Daryl, not that either man cared.

After the farm, when they had found a safe place to spend the night, the topic of Freak had finally come up. Dean knew that everyone had seen the wendigo and figured it was useless to hide him anymore. So Dean and Daryl had explained to the others what had happened, from when Freak had tried to grab Daryl the first night to the night of the farm. Dean was left to explain and answer any questions about the wendigo when someone answered, since he still knew more about them than Daryl. And when the topic of if there was anything else out there came up, Dean immediately shut down. He simply told them that almost everything they've seen in movies or books or on TV, as well as everything they've thought couldn't exist did and them some. He also told them about the 'family business' when they asked why he knew so much, but he kept that vague as well. The last thing he wanted to do was make the already fragile group even more on edge and to the request of Cas, Dean said nothing about angels. The one currently sitting next to him didn't want to give the others false hopes. The only one who knew more was Daryl, and that was mostly because Dean had already told him a lot.

What did surprise the hunter was how well some of the group took the news he had told them and who had taken to Freak. Rick kept pressuring Dean to tell him more and he still does, but he was still wary around Freak. Lori upright hated the wendigo and made sure it kept as far away from her and Carl as possible, but the kid like him and would play with Freak when his mother wasn't around. The Greene's, as well as Glenn, was fine around the wendigo. Glenn liked to hear him mimic others voices. Carol and T-Dog mostly ignored Freak, but wouldn't go out of there way to avoid him. Dean was happy that they took to him so well.

"Well, anything helps," Rick said, coming in behind Dean. "Daryl shot an owl and you just saved us from eating dog food, so I'm sure everyone here appreciates it."

"Yeah, thanks. I really didn't want to eat that stuff," Carl said, tossing the unopened cans to the side so Dean could hand him what he found in the houses. Dean patted the top of the kid's head as he passed and sat down on the floor beside Daryl. Cas followed close behind him. Since the farm, Cas was welcomed into the group with warm arms, but he still kept close to Dean. Whenever he wasn't with him, the angel would be talking with the Greene's or Carol mostly, but Dean noticed that he still kept himself closed off to them, not that they seemed to notice.

Dean saw T-Dog quickly look out the window, grab his weapon, and jerk his head to the side. It was his way of letting them know there were walkers outside. The actions that followed were so ins-inc that if was obvious that they were rehearsed by experience. Everyone scrambled to grab their gear as quietly as possible. Dean shoved everything that he had dumped out back into the backpack, but he didn't move to grab the cans of food that he had handed Carl and were now on the floor. Throwing the pack over his shoulder and grabbing the other bag he brought in, Dean waited for a second for Cas to exit the house before he brought up the back. They went through the backdoor and into the overgrown yard. It was easy enough to round the house to get the cars, seeing how far the walkers still were from them. Dean tossed his bags into the backseat and quickly moved around the the front. Cas was already in the car by the time Dean was and Freak was secure in his spot on the roof. The car rumbled when Dean started it and he waited for the others to get in their cars as well. By the time the last car took off, the first walkers had gotten to where they had been.

They drove in to particular order, except that Daryl was always in front with his cycle and Daryl was always behind him. The road they were driving on was as deserted as the one Dean had been on previously and when they finally found a place to stop, there were no walkers. Daryl was always the one to decide when the stopped, since he was in the lead. So when Dean saw the cycle pull off to the side of the road, he steered his car to follow. The others stopped their cars in the middle of the road and began piling out. The car jolted as Freak jumped off and Dean slammed his door behind him. The movements that followed were just as smooth as those in the house. Carl jogged up to Rick and stood guard as Maggie, Hershel, and Glenn pulled out a map of the surrounding area and lay it flat on the hood of one of the cars. Dean took his spot at the side of the group, where he could look off the road for any walkers that wanted to come pay them a visit. He listened to the others with half interest.

"We got no place left to go," he heard Hershel say and he knew that wasn't good. After the farm, the measly group had traveled all over for a safe place to set up camp, but nothing worked. Whenever they found a place that they thought would work, something always happened. Once it was lack off food, then it was the fact that there were to close places to scavenge. After that it was another place's poor security. But most often it was the walkers. They seemed to follow the group everywhere they went and would ruin any safe place they found. With the weather slowly growing colder and Lori's due date creeping up on them, they needed to find a place and fast. Dean's mind traveled to the bunker, but he doubted they would be able to get there this late in the season and not with the supplies they had and a baby on the way.

"When this herd meets up with this one, we'll be cut off," Maggie said. After they had encountered a few herds, Daryl had suggested that they mark them on the map, so they knew where they were for future reference. As it turned out, that had been one hell of a smart plan. "We'll never make it south."

"What would you say? That was 'bout 150 head?" Daryl said, joining them and leaning against the car. Dean knew he could go join them as well, but he had no desire. He was much more comfortable where he was, leaning against his car with Cas next to him.

"That was last week. It could be twice that by now," Glenn said.

"This river could have delayed them. If we move fast, we might have a shot to tear tight through there," Hershel suggested. Dean's eyes followed Freak as he made his rounds around the group of cars. The wendigo always did this when they stopped. It seemed to make him feel better. Beth smiled down at Freak when he passed her.

"Yeah, but if this group joins with that one, they could spill out this way," T-Dog pointed out.

"The only thing to do is double back at 27 and swing towards Greenville," Rick said. Dean had no idea where Greenville was, but as long as it had someplace safe for them he didn't care.

"Yeah, we picked through that already. It's like we spent the winter going in circles," T-Dog said and that jogged his memory. Dean remembered Greenville. There wasn't much there when they got there and even less by the time they left. Dean heard Rick say where they were going next and decided it was time to join them. He did need to see the map to make sure he knew where they were going. After a quick look, Dean nodded in agreement to Rick's plan. The cop knew what he was doing and Dean trusted him to an extent.

Dean heard the others say that they were going to go to the creak before they headed out to fill up on water and Dean was right with them. His and Cas' own water was getting low and they needed to fill them up. No one knew when the next time they got a chance of water was. So Dean grabbed their few water bottles from the back of the car and followed the others. Cas stayed up by the cars, but Freak went with him. Dean was about to step off the road when Daryl calling his name stopped him.

"Hey, me and Rick are gonnna go huntin'. Yer coming with us," Daryl said, jerking his head in a signal for Dean to follow them. Dean sighed and passed the water bottles to Cas for him to fill up before following Daryl and Rick. They walked in silence, following the train tracks. So far there was nothing to see or, more importantly, to kill. As they got to a gap in the trees, Daryl said, "Well, that's a shame."

Dean followed his eyes and saw the prison. Other than the walkers, he was surprised at how good of shape the place seemed to be in. The fence looked intact and the watch towers were even still up. Most of the actual buildings themselves looked still structurally sound and not falling apart. Dean turned to look at Rick and saw the thoughtful expression on his face and knew that the cop was thinking the same thing he was. If they got the place clear of walkers, it would be perfect.

XxXxXxX

It didn't take much to convince the others that the prison was the best place for them. Everyone who could fight were perfectly fine with going to empty the place of walkers. So now there was Dean, watching Rick's back as he cut a hole in the fence. The others came with them, all keeping a close eye on Lori. Dean jammed the Blade into the head of a walker, completely emotionless as he did so. He ignored the disapproving look he got from Cas as the angel pulled his own blade from a walker.

Once the hole in the fence was big enough, everyone started to pile through one at a time. Cas went before Dean and Dean went through before Rich, who always insisted on being last in situations like this. As soon as Rick was through, Daryl and Glenn made quick work of tying the hole in the fence back up so no more walkers could follow them in. Walkers came at them from both sides but the fences kept them away as the group made their way down the pathway. No one bothered to kill any of the undead, in fear of slowing the group down. Dean noticed that all of the walkers inside the prison were wearing either guard uniforms or inmate uniforms, which meant that there shouldn't be anyone living in the prison, which was good. Dean hated dealing with the living more than the undead.

They stopped running when they got to the area where the door was to let them into the prison yard. Dean noticed that he and Cas were the only ones not breathing hard. Rick had dropped the bag of guns and was now staring at the prison. Dean head him say, "It's perfect. We can shut that gate, prevent more from filling the yard, we can pick off these walkers. We'll take the field by tonight."

"So how do we shut the gate?" Hershel asked. Dean looked at said gate and wondered the same thing.

"I'll do it. You guys cover me," Glenn said. Dean had to give it to the kid for having guts. It was one of the reasons why Dean liked him.

"No. It's a suicide run," Maggie disagreed.

"No. You, Maggie, Cas, and Beth draw as many other there as you can. Pop 'em through the fence," Rick said. "Daryl, go back to the other tower. Carol, you've become a pretty good shot. Take your time. We don't have a lot of ammo to waste. Hershel, you and Carl take this tower. Dean, you're fast. You're going to run for the gate with me."

Dean nodded and dropped his bag of weapons on the ground. Everyone else scrambled to get to their spots and Dean pulled out a gun from his bag, knowing that he might need it. Even more walkers were being drawn to the fence, which made his and Rick's job somewhat easier. Dean stood and secured the pistol in the back of his waist and watched Rick throw his own rifle across his back and grab the chain and lock that Glenn held out to him. The ones in charge of drawing the walkers away began their job and it was working. The walkers were going towards them instead of blocking Rick and Dean's way into the field. Dean stood behind Rick, ready to run when Lori opened the fence door. With a simple nod from Rick, the door was open.

Dean had the Blade in front of him, his arm tense and ready to move if he needed. Since he didn't have a silencer for his gun, Dean would have to rely on the Blade to protect him and Rick. He followed closely behind Rick as they rounded the tipped bus. As soon as they were around the bus, the broke out into a sprint. The actual pathway to the gate was clear and Rick shot the walkers that got to close to them. A walker that had gotten too close to Rick and too far from Dean to kill was taken out by an arrow to the head and he knew it was Daryl they had to thank. The Mark on his arm burned in anticipation and the need to kill all the walkers around them rose in Dean, but he had to push the feeling down. Right now he had to concentrate on sticking close to Rick.

The two men picked up their speed in the last stretch towards the gate and Rick nearly ran into it when they got there. Dean turned his back to his friend and stabbed a walker that had gotten too close to them. He could hear Rick close and lock the gate, as well as the walkers on the other side pounding on it. Dean stabbed another walker and finally had a little breathing room with Rick shooting to take in their surroundings. The sounds of the gate and the shots drew the walkers towards them and that was never good.

"Rick!" Dean said, throwing open the door to the guard tower next to them. Rick knew what Dean meant and shot the couple of walkers inside before throwing himself in and yanking Dean in behind him. They managed to get the door shut right as the walkers got to them. The men ran up the stairs and burst through on top of the tower. Rick pulled his rifle from his back and aimed to shot. Dean put the Blade back where it belonged and reached for his pistol. Together with the rest of the group, the walkers began falling one at a time. Dean could feel satisfactory rise in him, but it wasn't because of the Mark. It felt good to finally do something good with a group of people again. It was nice to do something that actually helped people again.

It was amazing to just help again.

Once the last walker fell, Dean lowered his gun. Rick exited the tower first and Dean slowly followed him. The men waited by the tower and watched as the others ran in the grass. Dean could practically feel how happy they were. With a quick look at Rick, he saw the man was smiling and knew that he was too. When Cas walked up to Dean, the angel was smiling.

"You look happy Dean," Cas pointed out and Dean laughed. Not one of the fack laughs he's been doing for the everyone else lately, but a real, genuine Dean laugh.

"Yeah, if felt good. Not cause of the Mark, but cause I was helping again," Dean said, his face beginning to hurt from the smile. "It reminded me of the old times. Before everything and I mean everything."

Cas nodded and watched the other happy ones around them with Dean.

XxXxXxX

When night had fallen, a fire was built in the yard. Everyone, minus Daryl who was on watch, was crowded around it. The happy feelings from earlier were still lingering around and Dean didn't mind it. The only thing that put a damper on the mood was the walkers on the other side of the fence. No one liked the idea of sleeping with them there, but the didn't have a choice. At least they were safer than before. Dean silently listened to the others talk, mostly about what they wanted to do with the prison, about Rick, and the baby. Dean didn't miss Carol leave to give food to Daryl and he smiled a little. Turning his attention back to the other fence, Dean caught a glimpse of Rick walking around it, Freak at his feet.

With a sigh, Dean leaned back and got comfy on his sleeping bag. When Beth began to sing, that was when Dean knew. This place was good, too good. Nothing this good lasted, ever, and Dean was ready for it when it all came crashing down around them.

 **The first chapter of the sequel is finished! I'm really excited for them and I hope everyone else is!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I am so sorry for the late update! Please forgive me! I've just been busy with a week long vacation in South Dakota, school just starting, and working two jobs for the time being. I'm just happy for the comments/favs/follows on this story so far. Thank you!**

Chapter 2

Daryl would be lying if he said he wasn't releived to see Dean and Cas walk through the door of the house they were planning on staying for the night. The few cans of food were much appreciated as well. No one was very happy to see the dog food Carl had found in the house. Dean had handed Carl the food and took a place next to him after patting the kid on the head. Daryl watched Cas, who seemed almost glued to Dean's side, sit down beside him and finally Freak joined them, keeping behind the group and close to the wall. From the corner of his eye Daryl watched Dean.

The change in his friend had slowly happened over the course of the months that had passed since the farm was overrun. It was happening so gradually that it was nearly impossible to have noticed. To the others it was like Dean had changed somewhat overnight, but Daryl had been watching it happen with no way to help. Dean had become more closed off to everyone, even Cas it seemed, and he was obviously more violent. Whenever they came across a walker or two, and there was no immediate danger, Daryl would watch Dean beat it with the metal pipe he had somehow gotten over the months before finally slamming it into the walker's head. This occured more that Daryl would have liked, yet that wasn't the worst. Dean's eyes had slowly become dull, less vibrant than they were before. Daryl knew that Dean had lost his brother before he came to them, but even then his eyes were more lively than they were now. Now they were just a dull green, closer to black than their original color.

Daryl knew somewhat what Dean was going through. He had gone through something similar to it, yet vastly different. Daryl knew for a fact that the change in Dean was not because of family, like his was. From the little that Dean talked about his family, it sounded like he had a rocky relationship with his father, but a solid one with his brother, unlike Daryl. Daryl knew that his own father and brother were to blame for how he was now. As a kid, he knew that he was lively and talked a lot, which used to make his mother happy when she wasn't drunk or drugged out of her mind. But after she died his father didn't like him smiling or laughing or making any noise in general. Neither did Merle. So, after years of his dad beating it out of him and Merle verbally abusing him, Daryl had changed into the quiet, closed off person that he was now. And now he was seeing a similar thing going on with Dean, and he hated it.

Daryl forced himself to look away from Dean when he saw T-Dog move, which only meant one thing. Walkers. In perfect sinc, from hundreds of times doing the same thing over and over, everyone gathered their things. Daryl lead the way out of the house, through the backdoor, and to the cars. He secured his pack to the back of his cycle and climbed on, straddling it. After checking to make sure everyone had gotten in the cars, Dean and Cas being the last to get into the Impala, Daryl started the cycle and lead the way away from the walkers and the house.

XxXxXxX

Daryl finally pulled off to the side of the back road they were traveling on. He himself could keep going but he knew they had to stop and figure out exactly where they were going to now. The rest of the cars stopped and Daryl watched to make sure everyone went to where they were supposed to go to guard them. A map was spread out on the hood of one of the cars and the others crowded around it to see, including Daryl.

They had a problem and it was called walkers. They've traveled almost every place in the county, but found nothing. Every time a shelter was found that might work, a hord of walkers had somehow found them and drove them away. And with winter coming soon, a building that could be easily protected and guarded would do them all good, especially Lori. Rick's wife looks like she's about to pop any day now. After it was decided that they would double back the way they came, Daryl grabbed his crossbow and loaded it.

"Hey, while the others wash their panties, let's go hunt," Daryl said, looking at Rick. He saw Dean about to head to the river with the others, so he called him to stop him; "Hey, me and Rick are gonna go huntin'. Yer comin' with us."

Dean nodded and passed his water bottles to Cas to fill before joining them. Together the three of them stepped off the path and onto the overgrown traintracks that passed throught the road. It didn't take them long to loose sight of the road, nor did it take long for Daryl to spot the prison. Most of the fences were still up, the buildings looked good still, and with the creek running by it there would be a fresh water supply. It would have been the perfect place to hold out for the winter if not for the walkers. They crowded the field between the fences and made it nearly impossible to get through.

"Well that's a shame," Daryl remarked, gazing towards the prison. He noticed Rick stop and stare at it and immediately knew that the ex-sheriff had an idea.

XxXxXxX

Getting to the prison wasn't very much of an issue, nor was getting into the place where they now stood. It was the walkway between the outer most fence and the one immideately inside, where the guards used to walk to keep an eye on things from outside before all hell broke loose. Two of the guards towers were near them and easy to get to, which made a plan instantly begin running through Daryl's head even before Rick voiced his.

Once Rick took a few moments to take in the surroundings, he started putting people into place to get the job done. Glenn, Maggie, Cas, and Beth were to draw as many walkers away from them as possible by hitting the fence down from them while Carl and Hershel took the tower closest to them. He and Carol were to take the other and Rick and Dean were going to run for the gate. Daryl could hear the others already at work by the time he got up the steps to the top of the tower. He could see Rick and Dean running through the field, shooting walkers that got too close or were in the way. One particular walker, a red-head in a prison suit, got a little too close to Rick and Daryl took aim, shooting a bolt straight through its head. Rick looked up at him and nodded a thanks before he kept going. As soon as the gate was closed, Rick and Dean headed into the guard tower next to them.

"They did it," Carol breathed, sounding kind of surprised.

"Light it up!" Daryl called out, making a circle movement with his hand in the air. Shot immediately began to ring out, the need to be quiet to longer there. Everyone was shooting and it didn't take long for the walkers to be killed. Rick shot the last one and it fell as the daylight was dying. Daryl turned away and let Carol leave the tower before him. They all regrouped where they had seperated.

"Fantastic," Carol said when she was the others.

"Nice shootin'," Daryl said, not particularily to anyone but Hershel patted him on the back anyways.

"You okay?" Carol asked Lori as they got closer to her.

"I haven't felt this good in weeks," the soon-to-be-mother said with a smile as she grabbed Carol's arm.

"Good," Carol said before she went through the gate and into the yard. Daryl watched her and Carl nearly run in front of them. He couldn't help but smile when he heard them whoop for joy. Rick and Dean came out of the tower to join them and Daryl congratulated them for what they did, which was actually more of a nod than actual words. Rick looked like he was overjoyed with what they had done, like everyone was, but Daryl could see how Dean looked. Dean's face was still as emotionless as ever, no sign relief or enjoyment for what they had just done. And it sent a small shiver down Daryl's back.

XxXxXxX

He could hear the others behind him at the fire. None of them were bothering to be very quiet, but he didn't mind. The poncho Daryl had picked up when the weather had began to get colder kept most of the cold away from him, but not all. To most people Daryl would have guessed the cold would bother them, but not him. As a child he used to spend a few nights every week out in the could during winter if his dad got too bad. Yeah, the cold didn't do much to him anymore.

Freak was perched on the edge of the bus, staring silently and motionlessly out into the night. Daryl was pacing back and forth on the bus, looking out into the darkness for walkers, when Carol joined him. When he saw her start to climb up, he put his crossbow back on his back and grabbed Carol's hand to help her up.

"It's not much, but if I don't bring you something you won't eat at all," Carol said, crossing her arms in front of her. It was true, what she was saying. While he was used to going days without eating, none of the others were yet. So Daryl decided that if he could go a few days without eating then his portion of the food could go to someone who needed it.

"I guess little Shane over there has got quite the appetite," Daryl remarked, picking up a small hunk of meat and tossing it into his mouth.

Carol smiled at his remark and said, "Don't be mean. Rick's gotten us a lot farther than I ever thought he would, I'll give him that. Shane could never have done that."

Daryl saw Carol shiver and hug her arms closer to herself. He tossed another piece of meat into his mouth and asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's that rifle. The kickback. I'm just not used to it," Carol said, reaching back to her shoulder and squeezing it. Daryl knew that feeling. He remembered the first time Merle ever showed him how to shoot a rifle and the kickback felt like it had nearly dislocated his shoulder. It was a surprise that it hadn't actually, seeing as to how he was barely big enough to even hold it then. But the ache had lasted weeks, as had the bruise from it.

"Hold on," he said, setting his bowl on the ground and coming up to stand behind Carol. After licking his fingers clean, Daryl began massaging the muscle between Carol's shoulder and neck. He had to do this a lot for Merle whenever his dumbass brother decided to try out a bigger gun, so it was safe to say that he was a master at massages. Once he was sure it helped her a little, he dropped his hands and said, "Better get back."

"It's pretty romantic. Want to screw around?" Carol asked, turning to look at him with mischef in her eyes. Daryl couldn't help but let out a noise as he tried to hold back his laughter, but as soon as Carol began he didn't bother.

"I'll go down first," Daryl said, moving to climb off the bus so he could help Carol down.

"Even better," she said from behind him and Daryl rolled his eyes at her childish banter.

"Stop," he said, but he could help but smile. He helped Carol down off the bus and sent her on her way. As he and Carol joined them at the fire, they heard Beth begin to sing. Daryl sat down next to Dean and Maggie joined Beth. Rick showed up and listened to the rest of the song. Daryl looked over and noticed that Dean was curled up on his sleeping bag, already asleep.

XxXxXxX

They waited for the sun to shine before they got to the daunting task of clearing out the rest of the prison. Daryl, T-Dog, Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Dean, and Cas were currenly waiting at the gate that seperated them from the rest of the walkers. Once they were all ready, knives and other soundless weapons in hand, Rick yanked the gate open. Walkers immediately began to come at them and Daryl stabbed one in the head to keep it from getting through the gate as Hershel closed it behind them.

Their strategy was to keep in a circle, their backs turned to the middle so nothing was unprotected. Daryl was in the back and kepts swerving his head from side to side to make sure no walkers got them. He could see from the corner of his eye that Cas was using his long blade (Dean had explained it as an Angel Blade) and Dean was using the blade that resembled a section of jaw that he always seems to be carrying around now.

Another walker got close to him and Daryl jumped at it, running his blade through its head and sending it to the ground. They were making good progress until T-Dog decided to break rank. He left the circle to grab a riot shield from a dead walker, ignoring Rick's yells, and Maggie moved to stab a walker that had gotten to close to him. Maggie immediately fell back into rank and T-Dog joined her soon after. When they finally got to the door they were aiming for, Rick slowly pushed it open, but took a look around the corner and quickly pressed his back against the wall, pushing everyone else with him. Daryl heard Dean huff next to him.

Off in front of them, two walkers in riot gear rounded a corner and turned towards them. Daryl silently shuffled forwards, aiming his crossbow to take them out from a distance, but then two more guards in the same gear blocked his path. Daryl squeezed the trigger, but the bolt just bounced off of the plastic shield like he knew it would. Daryl fell back to reload his crossbow. While he was doing so, another walker came out of the doorway that they were planning on going through, dressed in riot gear and a mask. Giving up on the crossbow, he just flung it back onto his back and took out his knife to stab a walker that got too close. With all the noise they were making, Daryl was sure they were going to draw the attention of the horde of walkers just around the corner. Turning, he watched as Dean expertly shoved the head of another guard walker up and run his blade through the underside of its jaw and up into its brain. The walker dropped when Dean moved away. Dean looked at Daryl, saw him watching him, and sent him a genuine smile before going back to killing walkers. This was probably the happiest and most emotion Daryl had seen on Dean in a long time and he didn't like it.

"Daryl!" Rick yelled at him. The hunter ran forwards without a second thought, knowing what Rick wanted without needing to ask. He got to the fence and he and Rick pulled the gate closed on the walkers to keep them from entering. Putting a cable on the gate to keep it closed, Rick said, "We're good!"

Daryl moved back to help the others with the remaining walkers. Maggie had seen Dean push the walker's head up that he killed that had been wearing the riot gear and followed his example. Once the others saw it, they followed suit. Soon, the rest of the walkers were dead and taken care of. With no immediat danger, they could all finally take a breather. Glenn started to run back to let the others in, but Rick stopped him. Daryl looked at his friend to wait to see what he was doing.

"Well, it looks secure," Glenn commented.

"Not from the look of that courtyard over there," Daryl said, pointing passed them. "And that's a civilian."

"So the interior could be overrun with walkers from outside the prison," T-Dog said.

"Well, if there's walls down, what are we gonna do?" Glenn asked. "We can't rebuild this whole place."

"We can't risk a blind spot," Rick told them, turning to take another look around. "We have to push in."

Rick lead them up a small set of metal stairs and to a door. He checked to make sure Daryl was right behind him and ready to go. Daryl took a deep breath, grabbed the door, and pulled it open.

There was nothing right inside the door, much to their relief. Rick pushed the bared door all the way open so they could enter the room beyond. The inside was dim, dirty, and smell like ass to Daryl. They silently fanned out to check the room and Daryl help his crossbow up and ready. Rick came back down from the guard lookout with a set of keys that unlocked the room to the cell block. Daryl headed up the stairs to the upper levels first, Dean and Freak close behind. Rick followed and Daryl heard a bang from the end of the hall. Raising the crossbow once more, he slowly made his way back towards the noise. As it turned out, someone had locked some walkers up in some cells at the end of the walkway. It wasn't difficult to get rid of them.

When Daryl walked back down the stairs, he saw the others had already started to file in.

"So, what do ya think? Home sweet home," Rick said. Daryl rolled his eyes and looked up at Dean, who was still standing on the upper level. Cas was whispering something to him, too quiet to hear, but Dean kept shaking his head and furiously whispering back 'I'm fine'. Freak crawled up next to Daryl and sat down, lightly running his claws on the concret floor and making small scratch marks.

Yeah, home sweet home.

 **I hope this chapter was good enough. I was kind of rushed again for this one, but I promise that it won't take as long to get the other chapter up.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Finally, chapter 3. So, now that I am finally down to only working one job again, I will have more time to write, and more time to write means more updates, which makes everyone happy. And I got a mixed responce to whether I should add Destiel or Dean/Daryl into this fic, and I think I came up with a solution. I am not sure if it will work, but I will let you all know once I have everything worked out, so just wait!**

Chapter 3

The prison, well, the prison was a prison. It wasn't exactly homely, what it was the best they could do for now. It kept the walkers out for now and protected them from the weather. Dean stayed in motels worse than this.

The sounds of the others moving around, attempting to find cells of their own echoed throughout the concret room. Dean could hear every little noise from where his cell was on the second floor. He had choosen a cell the furthest from the door they had come in and the furthest from the others. Cas had picked the cell next to him, the angel not wanting to be too far away incase Dean needed something, but he wasn't a child. He didn't need Cas anymore.

Dean sighed and rolled onto his back to stare at the underside of the bunk above him. His body was exhausted, his muscles sore, but his mind was still on autopilot and the Mark was attempting to pump adrenaline through his overworked body, but it only made him more tired. Since he started using the Blade Dean hardly felt like he needed sleep anymore, but he couldn't remember the last time he was this exhausted. The sound of someone coughing filtered up to him and he shifted to grab his bag from the floor. It didn't take much effort to find what he wanted, since it was always on top of the bag.

Dean pulled out his father's notebook and held it in the air above him. Some of the loose papers shuffled, but none fell out. The frayed corner of a picture stuck out from between the pages and Dean gripped it and pulled the it out. The picture was torn and stained, having seen better days, but what was on it was still visible. It was a picture someone had snapped of him and Sam at a bar years ago. Dean still remembered the case they were working on like it was yesterday.

XxXxXxX

 _"Hey Dean, I think I found us something," Sam called from the small table in the motel room. Dean was on one of the beds, his feet crossed and his hands behind his head as he relaxed._

 _"Yeah? What is it?" Dean asked, opening his eyes and sitting up. He looked over at Sam and watched his little brother fiddle on his laptop. How he managed to get Wi-Fi everywhere they went was a mystery to Dean, but he was happy that he did._

 _"Looks like there were several cases in a town in Minnesota of people dying in mysterious ways," Sam explained, scrolling through the articles._

 _"Mysterious ways? Like what, missing hearts, murder like one in a movie, father suddenly killing whole family?" Dean asked. He stood and streatched his arms above his head. Something cracked in his back and it felt like heaven._

 _"A man was found decapitated, a woman died of wounds that resembled that of a mountain lion when she lived in the middle of the town, and another man was found missing all four limbs," Sam said, twisting the computer so Dean could see it. He scimed through the articles, and sure enough, it seemed like something that was right up their ally._

 _"Okay, let's get going then."_

 _XxXxXxX_

 _The case took way longer than it should have taken, but it was over now. As it turned out, the death's were caused by an angry spirit that was killing people based off of a child's drawings. The ghost almost got Sam, which gave Dean a mini heartattack, but luckily they both got out safe. Now they were sitting in some bar full of college students, a beer in both of their hands and empty plates in front of them. They sat in silence, like usual, when someone came up to them._

 _"Um, hi," someone said and Dean looked up to see a college-age looking girl. She was standing awkwardly, fiddling with the strap of the camera that hung around her neck. "I was just, um, wondering if I could take a picture of the two of you?"_

 _"Yeah, course," Dean said, leaning across the table and wrapping one arm around Sam's shoulders to pull him closer. "C'mon Sammy, smile for the nice woman."_

 _Dean grinned, the smile streatching across his face. He felt Sam shift next to him and then the camera flash went off._

XxXxXxX

Dean swallowed and shoved the picture back where it belonged. Next he flipped to another page and grabbed another picture before it had a chance to fall out. It was a picture of him, Sam, Ellen, Jo, Cas, and Bobby. Dean remembered the day that one was taken as well. It was before any of them died.

Dean stared at the picture of the people who he considered family, waiting to feel the ache in his chest that he always felt, but there was nothing. No ache, no sorrow, no nothing. His chest was empty, no feeling coming from any part of him. Dean ground his teeth and shoved the photograph back into the notebook harder than necessary and threw it to the ground. He turned onto his side, faced the wall, and tried to sleep for the first time in months.

XxXxXxX

Early the following morning, Dean found himself awake. The sun was just starting to rise, but there was no way he was getting back to sleep. It was a miricale that he managed to sleep for as long as he had. Dean stayed in the bunk, just laying there, but when the urge to move became too strong, he got up and got dressed. He needed to move, to do something, so that was exactly what he was going to do.

Grabbing the Blade and one of his pistols, Dean shuffled out of his cell and down the stairs. He listened closely to see if anyone else was awake, and sure enough, Freak came crawling towards him. The wendigo sat on his hunches, ready to follow Dean where ever he went. The hunter noticed that Freak was twitching. Dean wasn't the only one who needed to move around.

With the wendigo close on his heels, Dean left the cell block and went in search of the armory. Surprisingly it wasn't exactly hard to find, nor were there many walkers around. He only came across a few in the tunnels and they were easy to take down with both him and Freak fighting. Once they finally got to the armory, Dean shoved all he could find into a couple of duffle bags. There wasn't as much in the room than he would have liked, but what were you gonna do? He did find enough to help them clear out what they needed in the prison though. Shouldering his loot, Dean made the treck back to the cell block.

When he got back the others were finally waking. Dean set what he found on one of the tables and waited for the others to come closer. Hershel, Rick, T-Dog, and Daryl eventually came to see the bounty.

"Flashbangs, CS Triple-Chasers," Rick said, picking something up from the table and looking at hit. "Not sure how they'd work on walkers, but we'll take 'em. Thanks Dean."

Dean nodded and watched as Daryl picked up one of the riot helmets and looked at it with disgust. "I ain't wearing this shit."

"We could boil 'em," T-Dog suggested, picking up a glove and letting liquified walker drip from it. Even Dean was grossed out by that.

"Ain't enough firewood in the whole forest. No. 'Sides, we made it this far without 'em, right?" Daryl said. Dean silently spun a magazine clip on the table as he listened to the conversation.

"Hershel," Carol said, interrupting them and grabbing everyone's attention.

"Everything alright?" Rick asked.

"Yeah. Nothing to worry about," Carol said, but Dean didn't believe her. Something was up. Hershel followed Carol out of the room and back into the cell block.

Dean looked back down at the table and aimlessly spun the clip again. Impatiency coursed through him and he needed to do something, anything. A hand fell on his shoulder and Dean looked to see Cas behind him, watching him carefully. Dean knew what the angel was doing. He was watching Dean, has since the farm, to see when exactly he was going to snap. Normally Dean would be pissed at Cas for doing it, but something inside him knew the angel was doing the right thing. One day he was going to snap and Cas would be the only one able to stop him.

"C'mon, let's get ready to go. We're gonna find the caffeteria today," Rick ordered. Dean stood and followed the rest of them to where they kept most of their equitment. He was one of the only ones who didn't wear any sort of protection because he knew he didn't need it. Cas was beside him, already ready to go. The two of them exited the cell block before Rick.

The group went deeper into the prison, following the darken pathways. Daryl was the first, using the guard's keys to open any door or gate that was locked. The Mark on Dean's arm eminated a dull ache, but it was easy for him to ignore. The prison reminded him of all the other creepy places he had gone to with Sam or his dad for a case. He was half expecting a ghost or vampire to jump out at them, not a walker, but life wasn't that easy anymore.

They came across more cells, most wide open, and the remains of both guards and prisoners alike. Some were decayed beyond recognition, the cloths being the only thing that gave them any identity. Rats scurried around them in the dark places that their flashlights couldn't reach. Dean could feel Cas close behind him.

They rounded a corner and carefully stepped over some more bodies so Rick could spray paint at arrow, depicting which way they had just come from. It had actually been Daryl's idea to do the marking. He noted that it wasn't probably a good idea to get lost down there and said that how he found his way back home while hunting was to leave markers, so that was what they were going to do.

The air in the tunnels was hot and muggy. Dean could feel the sweat on his brow and under his arms. The rancid smell of rotten flesh and stale blood would probably have made his eyes water if he hadn't already been used to it. They continued to move as silently as possible through the tunnels, careful as they rounded every corner, but it wasn't good enough.

Dean hadn't even turned the corner when he heard the growls of walkers and Rick desperatly telling them to turn around. He got a glimpse of the group of walkers coming there way before he was forced to turn by the others. With no heed to be quiet anymore, they ran as fast as they could through the tunnels, back the way they came, or so they hoped. Daryl was in the lead, Rick close behind. Dean and Cas were in the middle, urging the others to go before them, and Freak, who had followed them, swung from the lights overhead.

They continued to run aimlessly as more walkers surrounded them. When they finally got to a spot that was reletively safe to stop, they noticed that Glenn and Maggie were gone. WIth no way to get back the way they came, they were forced to find another way. Dean drew the Blade as he followed the others through a door. The hallway beyond was empty, and they began to call for their missing companions. Dean's heart lept when he heard the screaming. He nearly tripped himself as he struggled to turn around quickly and run towards the noise. The others had already beaten him to it and the echo of Rick's gunshot in the tiny tunnel was deafening.

Dean saw Hershel on the ground and immediately knew what had happened. He had been bit. Rage bubbled up in him. Out of everyone in the group, the old man was probably the one Dean liked best, besides Daryl, and he wasn't ready to loose him yet. More walkers came towards them as Rick and Glenn grabbed Hershel and hauled him to his feet. They were forced to go down a hall behind them and when they came to a locked door, Dean broke the chain with the Blade. He and Daryl pushed the doors open and held them so the others could come in, then quickly closed them. T-Dog took Dean's place so he could run over to the others.

Hershel was in shock, twisting on the ground in pain. Dean saw the wound on his leg and remembered when he was mauled by the hell hounds and couldn't help but wonder if that felt anything like getting bit by a walker. Dean wasn't very keen to find out though. Rick started to hurridly strip off his belt and Dean fell to his knees beside him to help tye the leather around Hershel's leg. Once it was tight enough, Dean held down the leg as Rick grabbed for the hatchet and chopped the leg.

"He's bleeding out!" Rick said, throwing the hatchet away and pressing his already bloody hands to the stub where the leg once was. Dean heard a noise and looked up the same time Daryl did to see the figures standing not far from them.

"Duck," Daryl whispered, and Rick immediately ducked, allowing both Daryl and Dean to shoot to their feet, baring their weapons and flashlights. The beams hit the five prisoners in behind the counter in the face and illuminated them.

"Holy shit," Dean heard one of them mutter.

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl demanded, moving around the front of the others. Dean moved around the other side, his pistol up and ready to shoot if need be.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the prisoners repeated back. Dean could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his grip on his pistol tightened.

"He's bleeding out. We gotta go back!" Rick said, choosing to ignore the prisoners for now. "Come around here. Put pressure on the knee. Hard, hard!"

"Dean," Cas said, stepping towards Hershel. Dean knew what the angel wanted to do without even having to look at him, and he wasn't exactly happy about it, but they had no choice.

"Fine Cas, do it," Dean said, still not taking his eyes off of the prisoners. A couple of them were staring back at him, but most were looking down at Hershel. Dean heard Cas kneel down next to Hershel.

"I am still not to full strenght, but I can do a little help," Cas said and Dean finally looked over his shoulder. The angel was next to Hershel's leg, moving Rick's hand out of the way so he could lay is there instead. There was a faint flash of blue light and Hershel moaned. Cas drew his hands away and said, "I have slowed the bleeding, but we must still move quickly. It will not last forever."

"How did you do that?" Glenn asked and Cas looked up at him.

"I will explain once Hershel is safe," Cas said.

"Why don't you come on out of there?" Daryl said and Dean turned back to the prisoners. One-by-one, they filed out from behind the counter. "Slow and steady."

"What happened to him?" the first one asked.

"He got bit," Daryl said, still aiming his crossbow at the man.

"Bit?" the prisoner asked, sounding confused. Dean shifted his eyes to look at the prisoner and stiffened when he noticed the gun he had. He immediately swung to point his own at the man, and he heard T-Dog do the same.

"Whoa, whoa, easy now. Nobody needs to get hurt," Daryl said, attemping to calm the man down. Dean's finger tightened on the trigger and he was ready to shoot.

"You have medical supplies?" Glenn asked, totally ignoring the guns held up as he walked past the prisoners and into the room they had just come from.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" a different man asked, watching Glenn march past them.

"Who the hell are you people, anyway?" the man with the gun asked.

"Don't look like no rescue team," a man with reddish hair stated, shifting on his feet.

"If a rescue tean is what you're waiting for, don't," Rick said as he hauled Hershel up. There was a loud band from behind the counter and Dean could barely see Glenn knocking something to the ground. The Korean came running back out, pushing a long metal table on wheels in front of him. Dean heard them haul Hershel up onto it. There was a fury of voices as Rick pushed Hershel towards the door that they had just run through.

T-Dog pulled the pipe holding the door shut and stepped back. A walker in a riot suit was the first to stumble into the room, but T-Dog pushed it up against a wall and stabbed under its helmet.

"Daryl! Dean!" Rick yelled at them and together the two friends backed up towards the door, not taking their eyes off of the prisoners.

Daryl was the first out the door, and Dean was quick to follow. They ran down the halls as quickly as possible, not caring about how much noise they were making. Rick was in front, lighting the way with his flashlight. They were forced to turn and go another way with a group of walkers stumbled around the corner. Daryl shot a walker behind them and they ran that way. Dean shone his flashlight around the halls, leading the way. Freak jumped down onto a walker in front of them and dug his nails into its skull. The walker dropped and Freak moved.

"Freak! Go make a distraction!" Dean yelled and Freak immediately took off down the hall in front of them, then veered down another. Dean could hear him calling 'Over here' in Rick's voice. Silently, the group watched as a small horde of walkers changed course to follow him. Dean turned to look at the others. "C'mon!"

They ran down the rest of the hall, but stopped when they heard a noise behind them. Rick made them stop and Dean turned, weapon raised, and watched the shadows move on the far wall. Dean expected to see walkers, but then the prisoners rounded the corner, the one with the gun in front.

"Go, go, go," Daryl said, moving backwards. The others quickly followed, ignoring the prisoners for now. Getting Hershel somewhere safe was the first priority.

When they finally got back to the cell block, Daryl unlocked the door with the keys and held it open. Rick, Glenn, and Maggie hurridly pushed Hershel through the door.

"Open the door!" Rick called. "It's Hershel! Carl, come on!"

"Oh, my god," Carol breathed, unlocking the door and quickly opening it. Hershel was pushed through and into one of the closest cells. Carol and Lori helped Rick lift Hershel onto the bottom bunk. Dean stood awkwardly outside of the cell, not wanting to get in the way. He knew he wouldn't be much use to them in there and it would just be easier to stay outside.

He knew he should be feeling something, especially since he liked the old man, but he found that he couldn't. His heart didn't race, he wasn't sweatng like the others, he wasn't even breathing fast. The rage he felt earlier had vanished and left in its wake, well, nothing. No feeling, to guilty, to sorrow. Hell, he wasn't even scared.

The Mark on his arm let out a suddenl flare of fire and reminded Dean of why he felt nothing.

"Dean, get yer ass over here," Daryl called from outside the cells and Dean quickly followed the order. It was a relief to get away from the others. Dean found Daryl behind one of the tables, one leg up on the bench and his elbow resting on it to give him better aim. Dean could hear the footsteps approaching and raised his pistol, which he found that he never actually out away since drawing it.

The prisoners slowly entered the room, one-by-one. Their eyes cautiously moved over everything, taking it all in like they've never seen it before.

"That's far enough," Daryl orderes, his crossbow following the prisoner in lead.

"Cell block C," one of them muttered. "Cell 4, that's mine, gringo. Let me in."

"Today's your lucky days, fellas. You've been pardoned by the state of Georgia. You're free to go," Daryl said.

"What you got going on in there?" the one with long hair asked, slowly stepping closer.

"It ain't none of your concern," Daryl responded.

"Don't be telling me what's my concern," the inmate said and pulled out his gun. Daryl immediately stood up and Dean's grip on his gun tightened. He took a step forwards, towards the man, to show that he wasn't intimidated by the gun.

"I wouldn't do that it I were you," Dean said, speaking for the first time. The inmate's gaze snapped to him.

"Chill, man. Dude's leg is messed up," the biggest inmate said. "Besides, we're free now. Why are we still in here?"

"Yeah, and I gotta check on my old lady," another inmate said and Dean snorted. The prisoner looked at him. "What was that for?"

"Ain't hardly anybody left out there. Chances are that your old lady is dead," Dean said.

"A group of civilians breaking into a prison you got no business being in, got me thinking there ain't no place for us to go," the man with the gun pointed out.

There was a sudden noise and Dean looked up to see Freak had climbed through the door and was now hanging on the wall above them. The prisoners' gaze followed his and he heard them let out a series of gasps when they saw the wendigo.

"What the hell is that?" one of them muttered under his breath. Dean saw the inmate with the gun widen his eyes and immediately knew what he was going to do.

"No!" Dean shouted, moving forwards as quickly as possible, but it wasn't fast enough. The inmate raised his gun, pointed it at Freak, and pulled the trigger.

There was a lound _bang_ and Dean felt his heart stop.

 **Whoa, another chapter come and gone. I hope you are all enjoying this and are having as much fun reading it as I am writing it! Until next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**So, finally the next chapter. Sorry if this one is a little shorter, but it took me a while to write it. I hope everyone enjoys it though!**

The first thing he did when he reganed consciousness was take a breath, but the cloth that was over his face was pulled into his mouth and made him choke more. His heart rate sped up and he could feel himself begin to panic. He tried to move his arms to yank the cloth from his face, but his arms were bound tightly to his side. He didn't even notice that he was holding his breath as he struggled to unbind his arms.

Fabric tore and he felt something cool and grainy touch his hands. He struggled to move his arms and began to wriggle. Once there was more room to move, he started to dig furiously around himself. The fabric that prevented him from moving slowly began to tear away from him and he felt it slip from his face as he began to claw his way upwards. Cool air touched his fingertips and he felt relief. He gripped the grass and dug his other hand until it reached the surface. Then, pulling with all his might, he slowly pulled himself to the surface. Air washed over his face and dirt fell down from his hair. Bright light hit his skin and the back of his eyelids exploded with light. A pounding headache made itself noticed and it felt like his head was being spit in two. He took a deep breath and let the air fill his lungs.

Finally opening his eyes, the man looked around himself. The trees were bare and dead leaves littered the ground. The grass was brown and looked like it had just started to turn green again. He listened carefully and heard no sound except for the ever present animals hiding amongst the trees.

With a grunt he pulled the rest of his body from the ground, using his arms, and rolled onto his back. The sky above him was blue and white fluffy clouds spotted the vast area. The day looked like it would turn out to be a good one.

The man turned his head and looked at the the area where he had just dug himself out from. The area around the hole looked undisturbed, which meant that he had been in the ground for a rather long time. He didn't know how he got in the ground or who put him there in the first place.

A noise from the side of him drew his attention and he sat up to look over towards it. A groan and the sound of shuffling feet through leaves met his ears. Someone came stumbling out of the line of trees and moved towards him. The man immediately stood up and his muscles tensed. He almost fell back over when his eyesight went fuzzy and his headache let out another painful pulse.

"Hey, are you okay? What's going on?" he called, his voice hoarse from lack of use. He swallowed to try to wet his throat. The person just groaned and kept limping towards him. The man carefully watched the person and finally noticed some alarming things. The first was that the person's clothes were stained with blood and tore. The next was that one arm was missing and all that was left was a raggedy looking stump that had brown muscles and nerves tangling from the end. The final thing that he noticed, which was probably the worst, was that half of the person's face had been torn off, leaving an eyeless socket and torn muscle over dirty bones.

The thing snarled and snapped its teeth at him, reaching fowards with its remaining arm. The cold fingers skimmed his arm and it snapped him from his trance. The man stumbled backwards, his heart in his throat. A mound of dirt that he had made from digging out of the ground caught his foot and sent him spwarling backwards onto the ground. The thing immediately fell down onto him and the smell of rot filled his senses. He had managed to get his arms between himself and the thing to keep it from away from him.

The thing snapped his teeth and strained its neck in an attempt to get at something to chew on. The man ground his teeth and tried to push the thing off of him, but the thing on top of him was pretty much dead weight and his unused arms were weak. He felt them begin to buckle and the thing moved closer. The man shifted and something sharp dug into his leg. He automatically reached for it and his fingers wrapped around the hilt of a knife. Pulling it from his belt he brought it up and rammed it into the side of the thing's skull above him. The thing gave a jerk then fell completely on top of him. His arms went out and the thing crashed onto his body with enough force to knock the air from his lungs, but it didn't move.

He felt his body go slack and his head fell back onto the ground. After catching his breath he pushed the thing off of him and shakely got to his feet. He bent down to pick up the knife that he had dropped and listened carefully to the world around him again for more of those things, but no similar noise came from around him. He took one hesitant step towards the oppiset way that the thing came from and entered the woods.

It was like his senses were on hyperdrive. Every noise and movement made him jump, but no more of the things came after him. A deer ran out in front of him, stopped briefly to look at the man, then ran off. The man continued his walk in silence.

XxXxXxX

It felt like he had been walking for hours before he finally found the road. The sun had sank and the night was getting darker. Something in the back of his head told him that it wasn't a good idea to be out after dark. He had to find a place to spend the night and something to eat. His stomach felt like it was going to eat itself if he didn't put some food in it soon.

He ducked beneath a low-hanging branch, the branch snagging in his hair momentarily, and stepped into a ditch on the side of a road. He could have collapsed in releif when he saw the road and he all but ran towards it. His dirty shoes thudded on the road and he spun happily in the middle of it. He knew he should be quiet, which he was, but it was hard not to laugh.

"I don't think I've ever been this happy to see a road," he mumbled to himself. The best idea was to follow the road in one direction and hope that he runs into someone who would help him. After a short decision making session, he decided to head left.

He didn't know how long he was walking down the road when he heard a car coming. He stopped and looked behind his shoulder. The car was barreling down the road towards him. Something told him to get off the road as quickly as possible and that was exactly what he did. He hopped off the side of the road and sprinted into the line of trees. The car simply drove passed where he was hiding without slowing down and soon disappeared around the corner. The man cautiously walked back onto the road and looked around for any other sign of the living or undead. Down the road was one of those things, but it was too slow and far away to be much of a problem.

He continued down the road, heading the way he was previously going. The sky had gone black and he had to squint to see in front of him. With one of his senses gone, he relied on his sense of hearing to guide him. There were no other sounds around him other than his feet slapping on the road. It was too quiet for his taste.

A sudden, loud clap of thunder made him jump and the man froze. He looked up at the sky and saw a flash of lightening, which lit up the whole world around him. Then the rain came. It felt cold on his skin, but it was the best thing that he had ever felt. He could already feel the dirt and grime being washed off his skin. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up even further to enjoy it as much as he could. Which was probably why he hadn't noticed the things coming up from behind him.

Clammy fingers grazed across his bare lower arm and it made his body tense. Instict immediately kicked in and he quickly moved fowards. Spinning, he was ready to kill the thing, but froze. The one that grabbed him reach forwards again, but he was no longer focusing on it. Further down the road, moving towards him, was a horde of those things. They moved slowly, but there were too many of them for him to kill by himself. The only thing he could do was run, which was exactly what he did.

He spun on his heels and ran as fast as he could down the road. He had sheathed his knife so it was easy for him to run. He didn't bother to look over his shoulder, worrying that it would only slow him down. A small gravel road broke off of the road he was running on and he realized that it was probably a driveway. And if there was a driveway then there was a house. And if there was a house then it would be the best place for him to hideout in until the things passed.

He almost slipped when he turned sharply to be able to run down the driveway. The gravel beneath his feet was muddy and it made his feet sink in the mud. There was another clap of thunder and flash of lightening, helping him see down the road. At the very end, looking abandoned, was a small cabin. He jumped the three steps of the porch and crashed into the door. Thankfully the door didn't give and he tried the doorknob. He let out a sigh of releif when it turned and the door opened.

He slammed the door behind him and locked it. Whoever had been in the cabin before him had already boarded the windows and the backdoor, but he still moved to block them. The ugly sofa was pushed up in front of the front door and he shoved the fridge in front of the backdoor to make sure nothing will come in. As soon as the door was blocked, he heard the first banging on the side of the house. More hands banged on the house and the man sat in the middle of the room, his knife in hand. He folded his knees to his chest and waited. Now that he had time to sit and think, he started to panic about what he's going to do now. He can't remember how or why he was in the ground, or about anything before that. The first experience he had in this world was something that looked human but was defininatly not tried to kill him.

He finally realized that he was all alone. He had no one to trust or anyone to look out for him. He had to somehow survive this on his own. He couldnt' remember the last time he felt this lonely.

He let his head drop to his knees and closed his eyes. His headache was still going full force, but after a day of it he was getting used to the pain. He didn't notice how tired he was until he felt himself slowly slip into unconsciousness. Before he was totally out he thought he was a bright blue light flash from outside, but he dismissed it as lightening.

XxXxXxX

When he woke up, the rain had stopped and morning light filtered through between the wood boards over the windows. He opened his eyes and sat up from where he had managed to lay while he was sleeping. He rubbed his hands into his eyes and stretched. His headache bad decreased to a dull ache, but it was still noticeable. His body was sore and he determined that sleeping on the floor was not a smart idea. When he climbed to his feet, he limped to one of the windows and listened. When he heard nothing he looked out into the yard. The yard was empty and none of those things were milling around.

His stomach grumbled loudly and he clamped an arm over it in an attempt to quiet it. He silently slipped away from the window and went to the fridge. Opening it was a horrible mistake and he quickly closed it again, holding back his gaging from the strong smell of rotten food. Next he checked the cabinets in the kitchen. The first few cabinets were just plates, bowls, and cups. The next one held boxes of stale cereal, one of which he grabbed. Then he went back to the chair in front of the broken TV and opened the box. Sure enough, the cereal was stale but it was better than nothing. He used his hands to fish out the sugary balls and stuffed them into his mouth. Once his stomach was full and stopped making loud noises, he closed the box and set it on the coffee table.

Standing up, he checked the rest of the house. There was a bathroom and bedroom in the cabin, and nothing else. He found a backpack in the closet of the bedroom and tossed it onto the bed. Opening the drawers of the dresser, he found a pair of jeans that looked like they would fit him and a white undershirt and flannel. He changed out of his dirty clothes and left them on the floor once he changed into the new ones. Then he packed a few changes of clothes into the backpack and went into the bathroom. Looking in the medicine cabinet, he found some pain killers and popped a few into his mouth for his headache.

He also looked around the cabin for some sort of gun, but if there was one it was probably taken a long time ago because there wasn't even a bullet left in the house. He sighed when he realized that he was stuck with the knife that he had in the woods. After another quick look outside, he unblocked the door and slipped out. The sun was still low in the sky, but it had to be late morning by now. The man slowly climbed down the stairs, trying his hardest to not make a noise.

There was a shed around back of the cabin, but a quick look inside revealed nothing of use. A half done car sat in the middle of the cement floor with parts spewed around it, but if it didn't run then he had no use for it. He exited the shed and headed back towards the driveway. Even in the daylight the driveway was overgrown and hard to see. It was a miracle he had found it last night in his haste.

He started back down the driveway, intending on getting back on the road and following it the way he had been going, but something caught his eye. Off to the side of the driveway, hidden amongst the overgrown grass, was a feather. He stooped to pick it up and held it in the air to see it better. The feather was the softest thing he had ever felt (or figured that he had ever felt) and it was like molten gold in the light. Something in the back of his mind told him that it was familiar, that he had seen if before, but he couldn't remember where for the life of him. So instead of wondering for any longer he simply put it carefully into his pocket and continued on his way.

XxXxXxX

His feet hurt like hell and the muscles in his legs were worn. He had been walking all day, only stopping for a short meal when his stomach hurt enough. The sun was sunk low in the sky and night was threatening to fall soon. If anything that last night taught him was that he wanted to find a safe place to stay when it wasn't day. He had traveled through a small town a few hours ago and he regretted not deciding to stay there for the night. Ahead of him was nothing but woods.

He was about to move off into the woods in hope of finding a cabin like the night before when he heard the cars. He froze and listened closer, hoping he wasn't imagining it. Sure enough, the sound of multiple cars met his ears and he turned around to see headlights in the distance. Relief flooded through him and he quickly stepped to the side of the road to avoid being hit. As the cars drew closer, his heart began to beat faster and regret settled in. What if they didn't stop? What it they were crazy and decided to kill him just to do it? What if they thought he was one of those things and kill him anyways? The cars were too close now for him to run off into the woods without being noticed, so he just waited where he was and hoped for the best.

The first car slowed down and pulled to a stop beside him, the others stopping behind it. He couldn't see through the window, only his own reflection. The window finally rolled down and a man stuck his head out.

"Hey there, you lost?" the man asked and he nodded. "Well, we have a safe town not far from here if you want to jump in and come with us. We can always use the help."

"That would be great, thanks," he said, his throat hurting from the lack of talking.

"That's good to hear," the man said and smiled. "The name's the Governor."

 **Finally, it's done! I hope it was enjoyable and I will see you all next chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, here I am finally with another chapter. Sorry it took so long, it's just been one hell of a busy few months. I was going to update yesterday, but I ended up going to visit my mom in the hospital, so I made a pact with myself to do so tonight. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

Daryl knew the people they found in the cafateria were bad news the first moment he saw them. The first instict he had was to shoot them, but with one of them having a gun and with Hershel behind him, bleeding out, he determined that it probably wasn't a very good idea. But now he wished he had gone with his gut.

The prisoners had followed them into their cell and he had to watch in slow-mo as the one with the gun raised it and pointed it at Freak. Daryl reacted the same instant as Dean, both moving forwards when they heard the gun go off. It echoed loudly in the concret room, making those near cover their ears, including Daryl and Dean. In the next moment, a horrible shriek filled the room, worse than the gunshot. Daryl felt like his ears were bleeding, but he moved forwards anyways.

He saw Freak still attached to the wall, but blood dripped from the hole in his side and had started to make a pool on the ground beneath him. Daryl realized that it was Freak who was making the aweful noise and he saw the exact moment when the wendigo decided what it was going to do. Daryl was the first to react when Freak suddenly moved. He raced towards the prisoners, trying to beat Freak to them. He managed to somehow and pushed one of them, some twig with long hair, out of the way of the wendigo.

Instead of crashing into the prisoners like Freak had most likely been planning, he collided painfully with Daryl. The hunter felt all his breath leave his lungs as Freak hit him and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground, his back and front hurting like a son of a bitch. His eyes refused to open, and he felt like he would probably be sick if he did. Freak's weight sat heavily on his stomach, only making his body hurt more. Through the blood running in his ears, Daryl could hear how silent the room was.

"Daryl! Daryl! Daryl!" Freak called, using a voice that Daryl's never heard before. The wendigo shook Daryl, like he was trying to wake him up even though he was awake, and it only succeded in putting more pressure on his ribs, which he was sure at least a few of them were at least cracked, and a pained yelp escaped his lips.

The wendigo's weight was suddenly gone and Daryl managed to open his eyes to see Dean yanking Freak off of him. Dean shoved Freak behind him and Daryl was relieved that someone had finally moved him. If felt a lot better. Daryl began to nod his thanks to his friend, but Dean's look made him freeze when he looked down. There was absolutly nothing in his eyes. No sympathy, to pity, to relief, no nothing. They looked vacant, almost like a walkers. Daryl's blood ran cold as they stared at each other.

Dean was the first to finally look away. He walked away from them, mumbling, "I'll go patch Freak up."

The room was silent and Daryl pulled himself off the ground. His back hurt and his chest ached, but he'd live. He turned back to the prisoners, who were all looking after Dean and Freak. Daryl looked over at the man who he had pushed away, and the man gave him a thankful look. Daryl glared at them and limped away, back towards the door that led into the cells. He crossed an arm over his stomach to relieve some pain, but it didn't do shit.

"Seriously, what the hell was that thing?" the man with the gun asked, still sounding in disbelief. "That fucking monster was going to kill me!"

"Of course he was. You shot him!" T-Dog said, appearing after hearing the gunshot. He had his gun raised to point at the prisoner who had his own gun. "And you ain't coming in either."

"Hey, this is my house, my rules. I go where I damn well please," the prisoner said, pointing his gun at T-Dog. Daryl bent to pick up his crossbow, ignoring the pain that shot through his upper body, and raised it to point at the prisoners again. The prisoners began to argue with him and T-Dog, which only made Daryl more pissed.

"There ain't nothing here for ya. Why don't you go back to your own sandbox?" Daryl snapped, instantly regretting raising his voice because it only made his chest hurt more.

"Hey, everyone relax. There's no need for this," Rick said, finally deciding to join the part. He looked over at Daryl, sending him a look that asked _"You okay?"_ and Daryl nodded to let Rick know he was fine.

"How many of you are in there?" the front prisoner asked. Daryl noticed that he had started to get nervous with the new people suddenly showing up. His eyes kept darting between the three of them like he was debating which would be the easiest to take out.

"Too many for you to handle," Rick said, his voice perfect level, much different than the prisoner's.

"You guys rob a bank or something?" he asked, looking over at Daryl, who rolled his eyes. "Why don't you take him to a hospital?"

That actually surprised Daryl and a quick glance at the other two told them that they were feeling the same as him. Rick cocked his head to the side and asked, "How long have you been locked in that cafeteria?"

The prisoner hesitated a moment, but finally said, "Going on like 10 months."

"Riot broke out," the big guy said, dragging everyone's attention to him. "Never seen anything like it."

"Attica on speed, man," the prisoner that Daryl saved from Freak added.

"Ever heard about dudes going cannibal, dying, coming back to life? Crazy," another prisoner said, visibly shaking at the memory.

"One guard locked us in the cafeteria. Told us sit tight, threw me this piece, said he'd be right back," the one with the gun said.

"Yeah, and that was 292 days ago," the big guy said. Daryl looked between the prisoners, honestly surprised that none of them seemed to know what exactly was going on. Then again, no one really did, not anymore, but at least they knew how to survive it.

"94, according to my calcula-."

"Shut up!" the prisoner said, interrupting whatever the twig was saying.

"We were thinking that the Army or the National Guard should be showing up any day now," another prisoner said, and Daryl scoffed at the idea. Yup, that boat long since sailed.

"There is no Army," Rick said, voicing what the rest of his group was saying.

"What do you mean?"

"There's no government, no hospitals, no police. It's all gone," Rick said.

"For real?" the blonde one asked and Rick nodded.

"Serious," Rick said and Daryl watched as it slowly sunk in with the others. Next thing he knew, they were talking about the people they left behind when they got to jail. Daryl nearly laughed when one of them asked for a cell phone.

"You just don't get it, do you?" he finally said.

"No phones, no computers. As far aw we can see, at least half the population has been wiped out. Probably more," Rick said. Daryl finally decided to lower his crossbow, deeming the men not dangerous, for not at least.

"Ain't no way," the prisoner said.

"See for yourself," Rick said, gesturing towards the door.

As Rick took the prisoners to look outside, Daryl decided to check on Freak and Dean. Rick tossed him the keys before he went outside and Daryl unlocked the door. As soon as it was open, Carl was there.

"What happened? Where's my dad?" the kid asked him, trying to get passed Daryl and out the door, but the hunter stopped him.

"No way kid, you ain't going out there. Yer dad's fine, he just took the prisoners out to look outside. They should be back soon," Daryl said, grabbing Carl's arm and spinning the boy around and away from the door. He looked up to see Glenn leaning against the doorway to the cell that Hershel was in. He walked up to the Korean kid and asked, "How's Hershel doing?"

"Better than we thought, but he's not out of the woods yet," Glenn said, letting out a big sigh. "There's still a high probability that he won't make it."

"Ain't never seen any old man that tough since my old man. Trust me, he'll make it," Daryl said, clapping Glenn on the back. It seemed to relax him since the kid let his shoulders shag a little.

"I know, but I'm just worried about what would happen to Beth and Maggie if he didn't make it," Glenn admitted. "They aren't over the loss of the farm yet and I'm worried that if they lose their father so soon after it may just derail them for sure."

"Those two sisters are as stubborn as they get. They'll be fine," Daryl said and Glenn nodded. He gave the kid one last pat on the shoulder before backing up and walking up the stairs. He figured that Freak and Dean were probably in Dean's cell, and sure enough, there they were. Daryl stepped inside the cell and leaned against the wall. "How's Freak?"

"He's fine. The only thing that can really kill a wendigo is fire," Dean said, finally looking up from Freak. "How'd it go with the prisoners?"

"They didn't believe Rick when he told them what was goin' on, so they went out ta see for themselves," Daryl said. "Buncha dumbasses locked in the cafeteria for 10 months."

Dean nodded and looked back down at his hands. Daryl watched with trained eyes as his friend reached up and rubbed a spot just bellow his elbow. Daryl had noticed Dean touching the same spot over and over again since the farm, all when he thought no one was watching. Daryl cocked his head, trying to remember what was there. He knew he had seen it before and for some reason the idea that it was some sort of burn came to mind, but he couldn't remember exactly what it looked like for the life of him.

"Hey, does the reason why ya always touch that spot on yer arm have somethin' ta do with how you've been acting lately?" Daryl finally asked after a few moments of silence. Dean froze and tore his hand from his arm like it had burned him. When his friend looked up, it was to glare at Daryl with as much hatred as possible, but he was okay with it. That's been the most emotion he's seen from his friend in a long time.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean snapped, not even bothering to hide his anger.

"Don't even pretend like ya don't constantly touch that spot on yer arm," Daryl said. "Unlike the rest of 'em, I notice shit, and I've noticed that you've been acting a hell of a lot differently than usual."

"You're one to talk," Dean mumbled, looking away from Daryl and back down at his arm. "Look, I really don't want to talk about it, okay? Just leave it be."

"Believe it or not, I'm worried 'bout you. Yer the first since my brother that I can actually stand being 'round for long periods of time," Daryl said. "I'll let it go for now, but I ain't gonna forget 'bout it."

"Dean, we must speak," Castiel said, appearing so suddenly that he actually made Daryl jump. When the angel noticed him, he sent him a blank stare. "It may be best if we spoke alone."

Daryl nodded, knowing when he wasn't wanted. He looked at Dean once more and said, "Don't forget what I just said."

He exited the cell, Freak close behind. The wendigo seemed to be fine. He wasn't limping or showing any sign of having been injured, unlike Daryl. It still hurt when he breathed. Together the two of them headed back down the steps. He made sure to lock the cell door behind them and walked towards the doorway that Rick, T-Dog, and the prisoners went through. No one seemed to notice the two of them exit, and Daryl heard the one with the gun asking Rick where they were from.

"Atlanta," Rick said, looking up from the ground. He noticed Daryl and Freak, which made the prisoners notice them too. Daryl saw how they all froze up when they saw the wendigo, but Freak stayed near Daryl, ignoring the prisoners unless they did something that caught his attention.

"Where you headed'?" the prisoner asked, slowly walking towards Rick.

"For now, no where," Rick said, standing to face the prisoner.

"I guess you can take that area down there near the water," he said, gesturing in the general area behind him. The conversation quickly escalated, making both Daryl and Freak tense up. They both watched the interaction closely. When the man drew his gun again, T-Dog and Daryl raised there weapons up, ready to shoot if they needed. The blonde prisoner quickly stepped between the one with the gun and Rick, attempting to settle things down.

"Maybe let's try to make this work so everybody wins," he suggested.

"I don't see that happening," the prisoner said.

"Neither do I," Rick agreed.

Daryl listened again and said, "You could leave. Try your luck out on the road."

The tension was so high in the little circle that they had made that you could practically taste it. Daryl never took his eyes off the prisoners and the one with the gun stayed silent, probably trying to figure out his best course of action.

"If these three pussies can do all this, the least we can do is take out another cell block," the prisoner finally said, seeming to realize that they were outnumbered. "Atlanta here will spot up some real weapons. Won't you, boss?"

"How stocked is that cafeteria?"

XxXxXxX

In the end, they came to an agreement. For half of the food that was left in the cafeteria, Rick, Daryl, and the others would help the prisoners clear out a cell block. They headed back to the cafeteria, the prisoners leading the way. Whenever Daryl heard the man with the gun talk he just wanted to put a bolt between his eyes. He knew from experience that he wasn't going to make it, not in the new world.

There was more food than he had thought there would be, and it would last them for a little while at least, just until they were settled enough to go back out on runs. T-Dog filled up two boxes of canned food and carried them while Rick had two bags of food in his arms. Daryl couldn't carry any of the food back since it hurt his chest too much so he put himself in charge of watching the prisoners as they waited for Rick and T-Dog to exit the cells. When they did, Daryl walked up to Rick.

"I'm gonna go get Dean ta help. Be right back," he said and Rick nodded.

Daryl entered the cells, sparing a quick glance into Hershel's cell before walking up the stairs and to Dean's. He waited outside a moments, not sure if Cas was still inside with him or not. When he didn't hear any voices or talking, he walked to the entrance. Dean was sitting exactly where Daryl left him, staring at the ground blankly. Cas was standing on the other side of the cell, looking as uncomfortable as he always does. Daryl knocked on the concrete wall to alert Dean that he was there. Cas looked up at him but Dean didn't move.

"Hey, we're gonna go help the prisoners clear out their own cell block," Daryl said, feeling uncomfortable. He felt like he had just walked into the end of a conversation that hadn't gone so well. "With everyone watching ta make sure Hershel stays alive, we need more people. Was just wonderin' if ya feel up ta helping us."

Dean stayed silent and didn't move. Daryl looked up as Cas to see if he would say anything and the angel said, "It seems like Dean is in shock. It may not be the best time to let him go kill things."

Daryl's eyebrows came together and he looked down at Dean in confusion. Whatever Cas had to tell him musta been fucking bad. Daryl nearly jumped when Dean suddenly moved, standing up and putting his knife back where it belonged at his hip.

"Fuck that. I need to kill something," Dean mumbled, pushing past Daryl and out of the cell. Daryl quickly followed him, grabbing his friend's arm to stop him. Something was obviously wrong and he knew Cas was right. Dean would only put himself and others in danger if he went with them the way he is.

"Wait, god damn it. Something is obviously wrong, so fuckin' tell me. I ain't letting ya down there like this," he said and Dean spun to glare at him, but Daryl saw no emotion in his eyes. He didn't say anything or do anything for a moment, but then he finally sighed. The tension went out of his body and he looked like he was ready to fall over.

"It's my brother. Cas told me that he was alive."

 **Okay, fifth chapter is finally done! Hopefully it was entertaining and I will see you all in the next!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Surprise! I bet you weren't expecting to hear from me, probably ever again, but I'm back! I'm going to do a little explaining, so if you don't care (which I don't blame you) feel free to ignore this and continue onto the chapter. So obviously I haven't updated for a couple of years and believe me when I say that I had no intention of doing that, but it just happened. I was in the middle of high school and some shit just hit me like a truck and everything did a straight shoot down from there. I couldn't find motivation to do anything, and I mean anything, especially writing, which is saying something since this is something that I love to do, for a long time. But I've since graduated from high school and have now finished my first semester of college! I've slowly started to feel better and now have motivation, so expect more of this story and others in the future. So, enjoy!**

It didn't take him long to figure out that he had to leave. The man who called himself the Governor made it very clear that he was the one in charge and no one was to question him. After seeing what the man could, and would, do to others that he found, it was obvious that something was wrong. It wasn't to say that he didn't like some of the others that were with the Governor, though. Anna, one of the women who were with them when they found him wondering on the road, was pretty cool. She was the one who ultimately gave him his name: Gunner. He wasn't sure how he felt about the name at first, thought it was too weird and didn't really fit him, but Anna thought it was perfect. She said that after it became known how skilled he was at using a gun (it was muscle memory, he had no idea what he was doing) that the name came to her and she started calling him that without his consent. So when it got around the rest of Woodbury, others started to call him that and it just stuck.

Anna wasn't the only one from Woodbury that he liked. Actually, most of the people who lived in the small community were good people, with the exception of some. He knew that they didn't know what the Governor was really doing, not when he was outside of the walls. After going on a couple of runs with him and the rest of his group, Gunner contemplated on whether to tell others, but Anna talked him out of it. She said that if he told the people, then it would only cause more problems and disrupt the flow of the town, so he kept it quiet. That didn't mean that he was still okay with what was happening. In fact, he hated it.

Which was what found him in this situation now. After spending the majority of winter at Woodbury and going on runs with the Governor, Gunner finally snapped. On their last run they came across a small family, parents and two kids. They've never came across kids when Gunner was with them, so he thought that the Governor would simply let the family go, but that didn't happen. Anna was the one who did it, face stone and emotionless. It wasn't uncommon that the people in the Governor's group would change when they went outside the walls, but he had never seen Anna look like that before. She was wearing the same expression then, when she shot the kids, as she was wearing now while she pointed the gun at Gunner's face.

"I really thought you were with us, Gunner," she said, her voice unnervingly cold. Nothing in Gunner's body told him to be scared, like a normal person. Instead it was screaming at him to attack her, so take the gun away and point it at her. The muscles in his body twitched like it already knew what to do.

"I can't be with a group who would kill a couple of innocent kids," Gunner said, the tone in his voice easily rivaling Anna's. He saw her flinch, never have heard his voice so cold. Normally it was warm and soothing.

"You can't say that. You have no idea who the hell you are," Anna said, knowing that she struck a cord when Gunner's eye twitched. "You've seen what we do for the past three months, why is this any different?"

"I may not remember who I am, but I do know that I'm not a child killer," Gunner said, his fists tightening. Something seemed to snap in his mind and his whole composure changed. "You can try to keep me here, but you better be ready to shoot me cause I'm not staying."

Anna saw the change in him. His previously rigid body loosened, like he was ready to run. His fists tightened, but they didn't reach for any of the guns or knives that she knew he had. His face relaxed and the look in his eyes changed. It was no longer ice cold, but something else immerged. It was still cold, but a spark took hold of his irises and she could see the humor from where she stood. It made her freeze and fear coursed down her body for a reason that she didn't know. It was like he was looking for a fight just for the fun of it.

Gunner moved before she would comprehend what had happened. Instead of running straight at her, he veered to the left. Anna managed to jerk her arm with him and pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out around the quiet town of Woodbury.

XxXxXxX

 _Someone was yelling. He couldn't understand what was being yelled at him, it was like he was underwater and the noise was muffled. He tried to make out his surroundings, but it was like every other dream he's had since he dug himself out of the ground. His arm hurt, his head hurt, he felt hot and everything was going dark._

 _"Do it, just do it," he found himself saying. It hurt his through to talk, like he had a serious case of sore throat. He was also pretty sure that he could taste blood when he talked. "I won't blame you, just remember that. No matter what I've said in the past, I've never blamed you for anything."_

 _He wasn't sure why he was saying what he was, but something told him that it was the right thing to say to whoever was yelling at him. The person kept talking, but it was getting even more muffled. The feeling in his legs began to leave him and even his arm slowly stopped hurting. It felt like he was being submerged in an ice pool and it felt good on his hot skin. All he really wanted to do was close his eyes and go to sleep._

 _"I can't hold on for much longer. Do it now when you still have the chance," he said and he felt tears leak out of his eyes. He wasn't sure why he was crying, a little voice in his head told him that he's been in more pain than this. He didn't try to stop himself though, not having enough strength, so he let the tears fall freely down his face. The darkness crept further into his eye sight and he decided to just close his eyes, make it easier on the person in front of him. He had no idea what he was telling the person to do, but he knew that it would be easier if his eyes were closed._

 _The person in front of him said something much quieter than he was saying before, but he was too far gone to hear it. Something cold pressed against his forehead and then everything was numb._

XxXxXxX

Gunner opened his eyes and sat up so fast that it made his headache even worse. His first instinct was to reach to the side of him and feel for the warmth of another body that he's gotten so used to, but his hand didn't connect with Anna like it normally would. Confusion clogged in sleep riddled mind for a moment before everything from the previous day snapped back to him. Trying to leave Woodbury, Anna stopping them, a gun going off and then Anna on the ground, bleeding out. Gunner felt some sort of remorse deep in his stomach for the lose of Anna, but it was gone as quickly as it had made an appearance.

After the events of last night, Gunner had run from Woodbury as fast as he could, before anyone was drawn to the area because of the gunshot. He moved quickly and efficiently, changing his course multiple times to just in case anyone was following him. It was late afternoon when his body finally made it clear that he needed to rest and he found a house down a fairly well-hidden drive way to sleep for the night. After doing a quick pass around and through the house, no signs of a threat were found and he decided that it was a good place as any to camp out. It hadn't been very hard to block the entrances and he didn't bother to set any noise traps, since he was already a light sleeper to begin with.

Now that he was awake and there was no way he was going to get back to sleep, Gunner figured it was time to wake up. A quick look out of the curtains revealed that it was early morning, meaning that he had gotten the most sleep in one night than he had since he crawled his way out of the ground. Winter still lingered in the air and he quickly threw on another layer under he thick jacket before going to look through the kitchen. Since the house was fairly well hidden behind a group of trees, there were still some supplies that he could use. He opened the fridge first, which was a made idea because the rotten food almost made him vomit, so he quickly closed it after looking quickly and seeing nothing salvageable. The cabinets were more promising and made a pile on the kitchen island of canned foods and water. He even grabbed a bag of very stale chips to eat as he did another pass through of the rest of the house.

He found a couple of duffel bags that he could wear and quickly filled one with the food and drinks and the other with more supplies that he found from the bedrooms and bathrooms. He even found an axe in pretty decent condition behind the house. By the time he was ready to leave, it was late morning and he had to be extra careful that he wasn't heading back the way of Woodbury. As he walked down the side of the road, he was careful to keep an eye out for both walkers and people.

He had no idea where he was going to go, but he just kept walking.

XxXxXxX

The man's head was thrown back as the bullet dug its way into his forehead. Everything played out in slow motion as the rest of the man's group watched in shock as his body crumbled to the ground. Gunner stood silently, lowering his arm, as he waited for the men to look back at him. When one of the men finally looked back at him, Gunner could see that he was trying to look angry, but the fear was still set in his eyes and posture. He raised his own gun and leveled it at Gunner's head. He stared at the slightly wavering barrel with unimpressed eyes.

"You must really have a death wish," the man said, staring at the way that Gunner wasn't bothering to move. "I didn't think that you were going to be that stupid, but I've been wrong before."

"I'm not the stupid one. I warned you guys not to bother me and now look what you made me do," Gunner said, shifting his weight onto his other foot. "Now I have to waste even more ammo."

The man opened his mouth to say something again, but Gunner raised his gun and fired before he could. The other men finally moved, but he was quicker and managed to easily put a bullet between each set of eyes. After he found out how good he was at firing a gun at Woodbury, he focused on honing his skills and now he is confident to say that he was pretty good. Gunner felt nothing as he was the bodies of the men who had tried to rob him fall to the ground.

After spending six months on his own after he left Woodbury, he learned how to survive. Much to his surprise, he already knew most of what he had to do, leading him to the possibility that he was some sort of survivalist or something before he lost him memories. Despite learning that he already knew how to survive, it was like a double-edged sword. Since the world went to hell in a handbasket, people began to act like animals. Gunner found that it was easy for him to get used to killing people. He still never killed any children or families, only people who try to rob or kill him, so he counts what he's doing as good. He's helping get rid of some of the scum that seemed to rule the new world.

"Well that wasn't very hard," Gunner mumbled to himself, putting his gun away and quickly searching the men for anything that was of use. He only found a few bullets and a lighter, but it was still better than nothing. He left the bodies to rot in the sun as he walked back to the Harley that he had acquired a couple of months ago. It was hidden among the trees, something that Gunner did before he went to scavenge the house that he found alongside the road. He rolled it out of the shrubs and back onto the road before straddling it and firing it up. It roared like a beast and he took off down the road, swerving around the first walker that had been drawn to the gunfire.

Once he left Woodbury, Gunner had no idea where he was going. He simply walked down the road, and when that one ended, he would find another to follow. He managed to make his way out of Georgia and through Virginia. As far as he knew, he was heading towards Washington D.C. He had no idea what he would find there, but it was a good destination as any. He hadn't stopped and stayed in one place since his time with the Governor, though he found enough people who offered him a place to be set for the rest of his life. Something told him that he shouldn't stay with any of the people, a reason that the couldn't pinpoint, but he trusted it and declined all offers made to him. He had made it this far on his own, he can keep going.

The warm air blew his hair around his face and he decided that next time he stopped, it would be time for another haircut. His unbuttoned flannel flew behind him as he raced down the road and he was happy that he decided not to wear the leather jacket that he had found a few months back. It would be too warm now that summer was upon him and the last thing he needed was to pass out. The land stretched out around him and he took one had off of the cycle as he rode leisurely down the road. He was so relaxed that he almost missed the person who had ran out in the road and right in his way.

Gunner swore as he felt panic rise into his throat. Normally he wouldn't care if a person ran out in the road, he's had to run down people before, but it was different on a cycle. He was going to fast that even if he breaker, he wouldn't stop in time to avoid hitting the person. So he did the only thing that he could and veered around the person. For a minute he thought that he was going to make it, but then the motorcycle pitched to the side and he felt his knee skid painfully across the asphalt. He tried to over correct himself, but it was too late. The last thing that he saw was the road getting closer to his face.

XxXxXxX

Wherever he was, it was soft, probably the softest place that he's been for a long time. Whenever he was in a house, he never slept in the beds. It just felt too weird sleeping in the bed of someone who was most likely dead. So, the fact that he was in a bed immediately rose a red flag in his head. Pain came from what seemed like everywhere on his body, but Gunner ignored it. He strained his ears to listen for any sounds coming from around him. His hearing had improved after so long by himself and it was uncomfortable for so much noise to be around him. Gunner could tell that there was no one in the room with him, but he could still hear people moving around outside his room.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked around at his surroundings. He was in a room that seemed to have been made into a small apartment. The bed that he was in was against one wall and a small table with a couple of chairs sat in the middle of the room, with a tiny couch pushed up against another wall. It would have been cozy except for the machines and IV that he was hooked up to. Gunner was about to pull the tubes out of his arm when the door opened and he froze. Every fiber in his body told him that he should be looking for some sort of weapon, but he could already tell that there were none around him, so he had to face whatever came through the door on his own.

"Oh, you're awake! That's good news," the blonde man said when he walked into the room. Gunner saw the surprise on his face when he was him awake, but he didn't say anything. Instead he let the doctor come up to him and look at the machine sitting next to the bed. "For a while I wasn't sure if you were going to pull through. You got pretty banged up and then I wasn't sure if you were going to wake up. Good thing you did. There's a couple of people who want to meet you."

"Where am I?" Gunner finally asked. It hurt to move the muscles in his face and a quickly look down when he moved the blanket that was covering him showed bandages wrapping up his arms. He could only guess what it looked like under his clothes and on his face.

"One of the people who want to meet you will tell you. Just stay here so I can go let them know that you're awake," the man said, turning away from Gunner and walking back to the door. Before he left, he turned back around and looked at Gunner from over his shoulder. "You're lucky that you missed the person on the road."

The man closed the door behind him and Gunner didn't miss the sound of a lock turning, but it didn't stop him. He immediately finished tearing the tubes out of his arm and threw the blanket fully off of himself. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Gunner attempted to stand up but nearly collapsed when he put all his weight on his legs. Unimageable pain shot up his legs and into his stomach, making its way through his chest and even to his face. He bit back a scream and continued to stand up, with the help of the moveable IV stand next to him. He knew that he wasn't going to get very far like this with no weapon, so he made his way as quickly as possible around the room, but there was nothing easy to use at a weapon. If he had more strength he could break one of the chairs, but there was no way he would be able to lift it enough the smash it. He was tempted to kick something out of frustration when he heard the door unlock behind him and he quickly moved. The man from before walked in, but this time he was followed by two other men. One had stringy blonde hair and the other had a well-trimmed beard and wearing leather jacket.

"Well hot damn, you're up and moving around already," the man in the leather jacket said, whistling through his teeth. "You're one tough son of a bitch."

"Where the hell am I?" Gunner demanded, trying not to lean as heavily on the IV, but he winced when he moved his legs. The man saw this and his grin grew wider.

"Looks like you're in a little bit of pain there, pal, so I'll be nice and tell you where you are," the man said before throwing his arms out for dramatic effect. "I'm Negan and this is the Sanctuary."

 **And there's my first chapter in a few chapters. I was going to have Gunner stay with the Governor for a while longer, have a whole story with him, but I decided not to because I like Negan better. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I promise that it won't take me nearly as long to upload another.**


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